


Big Sky Country (Montana)

by Littlefoxylove



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Anyways, F/M, Fluff, also salt liquorice is disgusting, and coconut long boys, i swear they have extra hot taffy, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 17:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17871791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlefoxylove/pseuds/Littlefoxylove
Summary: Mulder takes Scully ghost-hunting in snowy Montana, where the investigation is promptly waylaid by snow and a lesson in human physiology.





	Big Sky Country (Montana)

**Author's Note:**

> Set this whenever you want. Early seasons, later seasons, reboot, I saw it around season five-ish. The store’s been there since before I can remember, and while it’s not known for ghosts, the Pollard and the Smith Mine site are. Sorry for taking so long, lol. This morphed from a Thanksgiving story, to Christmas, to New Year’s, to Valentine’s, but at least it’s not a St. Patrick’s Day story. I’ll leave that to someone else (;

 

“Scully! Come here.”

She walked over to her partner, raising an eyebrow in the process. “What?”

 

He nodded towards a building across the street. “I think should investigate. It’s old enough to be the home base of the paranor-“

 

‘A candy store, Mulder, really?” She ducked away from a wildly waving flag. The main street had been lined with American flags and decked in pine boughs.

 

“Yeah!” He adjusted his collar and grinned at her. “Come on, Scully. It’ll be fun.”

 

She sighed and looked across the street. Red Lodge was cold, snowy, windy, and- apparently- the source of most of Montana’s UFO activity. She thought the X-Files had moved past unsubstantiated UFO sightings and onto more concrete conspiracies, but Mulder had insisted upon a weekend of ghost hunting and sky searching in the snow, and someone had approved the estimated budget.

 

_Montana Candy Emporium._

“Sure.” She pushed a flapping flag out of her face. “Fine. Whatever.” Anything to get out of the sleet. Her coat was warm, but it wasn’t meant to be frozen and soaked simultaneously, and neither was she. Mulder offered his arm as they crossed the street. It was icy, and the snow was coming down faster than the plows and grit trucks could manage.

 

He had been so excited to come. He’d shown her slide after slide about the Smith Mine and the Pollard Hotel and the ghost stories that came with them. There had been countless accounts of UFOs rising over the Beartooth Mountains, and a few old cases of unexplained disappearance that Scully put down to early cowboy justice.

 

So here they were, mere weeks into the new year. The candy store had a wooden front like an old theater, complete with the billboard. She pulled the door open and warm air gusted out, defrosting her nose. Mulder reached over her head and held the door, waving her in.

 

“Look, Scully!” Mulder picked a jar of pastel candy up from a shelf and rotated it so she could see the garish label. “It’s a sign."

 

“Fizzy UFOs?” She began peeling her chilled gloves off.

 

“Or. . . you know, hold on.” He moved further into the shop, easing past a group of teens in Carhartt crowding around a glass cabinet. The hardwood creaked under his weight. “How about this?” He had a box of bubblegum cigarettes. “Doctor approved?”

 

“I doubt your dentist would agree.”

 

He could see the amusement in the fine lines of her expression, even as she fought to clamp it down. She looked down to shove her gloves into her pockets and unbutton her coat. For all the cold outside, the shop was warm, bordering on tropical, filled as it was by students and tourists alike.

 

The bubblegum was forgotten as Mulder’s gaze caught on a large display of European candies. “Scully, you’re not gonna believe this, but I haven’t seen this stuff since I was at Oxford. Salted liquorice. . . Fox’s. . .”

 

“Foxes?” Scully stepped forward to see the packet, expecting a fox-shaped candy.

 

“Fox’s Glacier. They make mints and fruity hard candy. I mean, it’s the same kind of thing we have here, except for the blackcurrant ones. For some reason, I guess America never really got into the blackcurrant thing.”

 

Scully listened to him ramble about blackcurrants and Montana huckleberry, an apparent local favorite. Mulder’s nose was red with the cold, his hair damp with melting snow. She resisted the urge to reach over and brush it off. Instead, she unwrapped her scarf and fluffed her hair with her fingers, melting the last of the hoarfrost that had formed near her face. 

 

“Scully?”

 

She looked up and found a curious expression on his face.

 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just, you drifted off.”

 

“It’s been known to happen.”

 

He grinned. “Sure, whatever.”

 

“Sure, _fine_ , whatever. You missed one.”

 

“Can’t have that.” He peered over her, back out the window. “Tell you what, let’s cut out early today. We aren’t going to get anything done in that.”

 

She turned and looked back out the window. Sure enough, the snow was coming down harder, coming _sideways_ harder, if she were honest. “I expected more from the New Englander.”

 

“It wasn't windy like this out East.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Hmm. That seems like a flimsy excuse, Mulder.”

 

“Would you rather be in a warm candy store across the street from our hotel or out there ghostbusting near the mines in negative temperatures?”

 

_When he put it that way._ “Let’s see what they have back here.” She let her fingers tangle with his as she led him through barrels of taffy. Here, in Montana, nearly two-thousand miles from DC, and several dozen from the nearest field bureau, she didn’t mind the public gestures. Their black wool coats and leather shoes marked them as outsiders, but beyond that, no one knew or cared.

 

They wandered the store slowly. Mulder picked up a brown paper bag and was filling it with a wild variety of processed and dyed sugar as he recounted ghost stories. Candy corn in January, cow-tails, the squirrel nut zippers that Scully vividly remembered from her childhood, huckleberry jelly bears, and two of nearly every flavor of taffy.

 

“How about this? Extra hot taffy. Should I bring some back for the Skinman, or do you think we spice up his workdays enough already?”

 

Scully shrugged. “Capsaicin is said to reduce blood pressure in high enough quantities.”

 

“In that case-“ Mulder was about to plunge his hand back in the barrel when Scully stopped him.

 

“I’m talking high quantities as in thousands of ghost peppers’ worth of capsaicin.”

 

“Oh.” He grimaced. “I’m no longer interested in the health benefits of capsaicin.”

 

“Sex lowers blood pressure, too. Orgasm in women releases oxytocin, which-“ she paused and cleared her throat as Mulder glanced over in surprise. “Lowers blood pressure via vasodilation,” she finished quietly.

 

“Is that where your mind wandered to earlier, _Agent_ Scully? Sex?” He grinned at her, slightly bemused by her sudden self-consciousness.

 

She shrugged again, looking down at their joined hands. “No, _Agent_ Mulder.” She added the same emphasis on his title. Two could play that game. “I was thinking along lines somewhat more germane to our investigation.” 

 

“Yeah?” He couldn’t quite tell if she was bullshitting him, but he suspected she was.

 

“We’re primarily here to investigate the disappearance of a Lutheran pastor, are we not?”

 

“Yeah, technically. He disappeared from his apartment over this shop-“

 

“In 1956, Mulder.”

 

“Yeah, but I showed you all those reports of electrical issues and noises from upstairs. They’re ongoing. That apartment hasn’t been rented out since-“

 

“1994, I know, and it’s locked. The realtor told me over the phone. She hasn’t give the key to anyone, and she has the only copy as far as she’s aware, _and_ she’s out of town this weekend.” Scully fingered a coconut long-boy. “I was thinking, there’s probably a stairwell going from the back of this place to the apartment. At one point, that apartment was intended as the shopowner’s home, and it only makes sense to have an internal entrance.”

 

“The back. . .” Mulder looked up at the striped curtain drawn across the wide hallway to the back rooms of the emporium. He glanced towards the front again, where the employees seemed to be busy with the Carhartt kids and a new group by the fudge window. He set the brown bag of candy down behind a basket of Atomic Fireballs. “They probably don’t want merchandise back there,” he said calmly. “C’mon, Scully.”

 

He led her with purpose. Over the years he’d found that acting like he owned something- a stolen ID, a crime scene- got him further than asking. He flipped back the curtain, high enough for Scully to pass under, and then dropped it, enveloping them in darkness. 

 

“Scu-“

 

There was a click and her face suddenly lit up with an eerie glow. She lifted her flashlight away from her chin as he jumped back. “Gotcha.” She smiled, then cast the beam around them. “Doesn’t look too exciting.” There were more barrels, cardboard boxes with confectionary labels, and a cramped folding table.

 

Mulder stepped up to the table and Scully let the light follow him. “Cards, maybe a. . .” he flicked something across the table. “A little bit of Mary-Jane.” He wandered away and Scully followed, smiling. There were rows of boxes on shelves, sealed tight. She watched as Mulder ducked behind a tower of boxes and pushed a shelf to the side to tap a door with his knuckle. “Nice call, Scully. It doesn’t look like this has been moved in ages.” The wall behind the shelving was darker, the wood varnish unfaded. The glint of the doorknob in the torch light must have caught Mulder’s eye, she realized.

 

“Mm.” She stepped up to the door and twisted the knob, then pulled it open. The shelf blocked it from opening more than a few inches, but it was enough for her to squeeze through. She paused partway, braced herself on the doorway, and shoved it open a little further. “Come on in, the water’s fine, I think.” She swept her light over the area behind her. There was just a dusty staircase that looked utterly untouched.

 

Mulder eased in behind her and looked up. “Hey baby, you wanna?”

 

She snorted. “Sure.” This time, she led the way up the stairs. There was another door at the top, unlocked, and Scully’s hopes fell. It probably dumped out outside the apartment, in the entry hallway. She tried it nevertheless, and blinked in the bright light that flooded in.

 

“Scully?”

 

“I think we’re in the apartment. The door-” she turned to look at it. “It’s disguised to look the wall. I can see how someone missed it with all the grooves in the wood panelling."

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” She clicked her flashlight off and stepped into the small living room. “It’s stopped snowing.” Her heels clicked on the floor as she crossed to the window and drew the gauzy curtain back slightly. The sun had cut through the clouds and the snow had slowed to a vertical descent once again. “It looks like diamond dust in the air.”

 

“Beautiful.”

 

She glanced up at her partner, who was decidedly not looking out. “Muld-err.”

 

“I mean, yeah, the snow’s nice, too.”

 

She dropped the curtain and stepped back. “Hm.”

 

He cupped one cheek with his hand and let the other fall to her waist. “Are you still cold?”

 

She wasn’t, not really. “Yes.”

 

“Hmm. Gotta do something about that.” He kept his hands on her and walked her back to the sofa he’d spotted among the furniture that had all been pushed to the wall.

 

She reached up to begin unbuttoning his trench, working on his shirt at the same time. “Here? Really?”

 

“Well, _someone’s_ got to keep the local ghost stories going, and what better way than mysterious noises from locked apartments?”

 

She snorted. “Not the best pick-up I’ve heard, but one of the more unique ones.”

 

“It’s better than the one I told you right before Skinner walked i-“

 

“I’ve blocked that from my memory. Shush.” Scully rose on her toes to press her lips to his, stopping the flow of words. When she dropped back to her heels, Mulder began stripping her outerwear off in earnest. 

 

She yelped involuntarily as his cold fingers brushed her ribs. “Jesus, Mulder!"

 

He paused long enough to grin at her. “Payback for all those times you stuck your ice-block feet between my calves.”

 

He certainly wasn’t joking about the mysterious noises, she realized. There was some jostling as he gathered her up in his arms, then balanced her between him and some covered furniture. 

 

“We’re going to have the shopkeepers up here if we keep this up,” she mumbled into his mouth. 

 

He broke the kiss. “I think we’ll hear ‘em coming up the stairs. They were kind of creaky.”

 

“Mm, so are you.” She thought about unbuttoning her shirt, then merely pulled it up from her slacks. Mulder’s hands ghosted up her sides again, and he slipped his fingers past her underwire. He could feel goosebumps rising on her breasts, from cold or arousal he didn’t know. 

 

She tightened her legs around his waist. “I hope your shirt isn’t dry clean only,” she mumbled. She kept one hand on his neck and ran her free fingers through his hair. 

 

Mulder pulled back, and for a moment she thought he actually was worried about her slushy boots on his hips. “Scully.”

 

“Hm?” Her hips jerked forward against him involuntarily. She could feel her gluteals tense, and fought for control again.

 

“We’re in a haunted apartment, Skinner’s nowhere in the vicinity, and you’re worried about my shirt?”

 

She laughed aloud. “I see your point.”

 

He leaned in again and kissed her quickly. “What if we headed out of here?”

 

“Mul-der!” 

 

He cocked his head to the side and stared at her. Her hair was wind-whipped, cheeks wind-chapped, and she had a damp glow from the snow that had melted in her hair and collar.

 

“What the fuck?” She was cross enough to swear at him for having interrupted.

 

“Exactly.” He leaned and kissed her again. “I don’t want us to cross Montana off up against a wall.” The map with the little star stickers was in his desk drawer. The locking one. “Not-“ He moved lower, butterflying kisses along her jaw. “When we have a-“ He licked the edge of the thick muscle on her neck. It had some long name that he never remembered. “A beautiful hotel room in a _haunted_ hotel.”

 

“Oh my God,” she muttered in frustration. “Of course.” She shivered as he nipped her collarbone. “Ah!”

 

He glanced up in time to see her eyes roll back slightly. She reached between them and fumbled his free hand back out of her pants. 

 

“Mulder, you can’t keep  _doing that_ and then stop and ask me to walk back outside. It’s worse than a cold shower.”

 

He chuckled then. “Well then, let’s go, because I want to _keep_ doing that, as soon as possible.”

 

She huffed in mock annoyance, but unlocked her legs from his waist and slipped back down to the floor. She didn’t bother fixing her rumpled shirt, merely buttoned her coat over it. A few moments later, Agent Scully, MD, had re-emerged. She reached up and rubbed her thumb against the corner of Mulder’s mouth. “'Toast to New York' isn’t your color.”

 

“Are you sure? Maybe we should check again.” 

 

She rested her hand over his lips with a smile. “If we start that again we’ll never get out of here. We can check the color when we’re back at the Pollard.” She dropped her hand to his chest and began fastening the buttons on his own coat. Wary of the lipstick, she rose on her toes to kiss him again, then pulled him towards the door of the apartment. They descended the stairs quietly, and slipped into the dark back room. Mulder pushed the shelving unit back in front of the door as Scully slipped her damp gloves back on. No one noticed them sliding past the curtain between the private and public parts of the store. If anything, there were more people crowding into the sugary warmth of the shop than before.

 

“Scully?”

 

“Hmm?” She raised one eyebrow curiously.

 

“Can we stop to get the candy?” Mulder actually looked completely serious.

 

She chuckled. “And here I thought-“

 

He looked down, flushing slightly. “Yeah, I know. I actually _do_ miss Fox’s-“

 

“Sure, Mulder. That’s fine.” She caught his grin and smiled back. “Whatever.”

 

He laughed. “Tell you what. Since we’re going to get held up in the line, we might as well pick up some fudge. It’s apparently made in house, and I bet it melts if it makes skin contact for too long. It’s real chocolate and butter, not your nonfat tofutti." He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I can think of all sorts of things to do with real-“

 

She fought the flush rising on her cheeks. “Mulder!” She snuck glances at him as they waited in line, then finally sighed and gave in. “Fine. Just pick something that won’t permanently dye my skin.”

 

“No M&Ms then.”

 

“No,” she said firmly.

 

He scans the window, examining slabs of fudge like she does specimen slides. “Does this one look like Elvis to you?”

 

She raised an eyebrow. 

 

"Maybe not red velvet, either, then.”

 

“No.”

 

“Aww, Scully,” he muttered half-heartedly, before glancing back at her. “Tell you what. Classic milk chocolate for a classic girl.”

 

She laughed aloud and didn’t bother hiding her smile. “Okay, Mulder.” She paused, remembering how they were in Montana, in a snowstorm, hundreds of miles from anyone of import to her, then reached for his hand and laced her fingers between his. When he looked down in surprise, she shrugged. “I don’t want the sequel to begin with your icy fingers.”

 

“Cold hands, warm heart?”

 

“From a physiologic standpoint, I’d have to say no, but I appreciate the effort.”

 

“Speaking of physiology, maybe we could continue the lesson across the street?”

 

She hummed quietly as he passed bills to the cashier and took their paper bags of processed sugar. “I was thinking we could move onto anatomy this afternoon, maybe you’d have better luck with the change of subject.”

 

Mulder swung their joined hands as they stepped back into the sparkling cold of the street. “I got an A in anatomy in high school.”

 

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see how much you remember.”

 

Mulder chuckled as they crossed the street. “Yes ma’am, Dr. Scully. Pop quiz at 1600 hours.”

 

“Mm, I was thinking more along the lines of an exam, a full-length exam.”

 

He drew his gaze slowly along her form and ducked a flapping flag. “It’s still going to be a short exam.”

 

Her mouth dropped open and she glared at him without any real heat. “I didn’t say which one of us would be the examinee. I _was_ thinking it’d be a longer exam, to be honest.”

 

He held the door to the hotel open and they made their way past the taxidermied moose in the lobby. “I suppose it’s not beyond the realm of extreme possibility.”

 

Scully hurried up the stairs, taking two steps to every one of Mulder’s. “You know what they say, though. Seeing is believing. And-“ she bumped her shoulder against him. “I really should verify your report.”

 

The wind howled past the hotel, shaking the electric lines, and filling the big sky with biting swirls of snow. It would pass through Red Lodge, Mulder knew, before rising over the pass to the south, and gusting through the ruins of the Smith Mines. From there, it would tear through Bearcreek, with its supposedly world-famous banana cream pie, and then carry the cold down to Wyoming. Mulder turned his attention to his partner. The wind didn’t matter, nor did the ghost stories and the strange lights at night. He had Scully by his side, and that was the only truth that mattered.

 

Their ghosts could wait. 

 


End file.
